Sacrifice
by UnityGhost
Summary: "I know you would never take my grace. You've driven that home for me. It's just that … the nightmare … it reminded me that there's something worse."


Part 21 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels. This story does contain references to sexual assault.

Part of this story came about thanks to the following observation about the previous installment:

_I'm going to touch on a thing that I feel that was missing here that could have been addressed. I've previously brought up Sam's vampire death and how that likely was traumatizing for all parties involved in it. (Sam being resurrected by Lucifer, his torturer. Gabriel being unable to heal the first person he was able to trust after years of torture and watching Sam die in a horrible fashion.) I suspect that this story and Sam's near death by ghostly suffocation could have brought that back up, and I was almost surprised that Gabriel didn't have that freak-out here. (GammaSpectrum, Archive)_

Thank you for pointing this out to me, and I hope this comes close to meeting your expectations!

...

Only in the silence did Gabriel realize that no one was speaking. No one was auctioning him or his grace.

He disentangled himself from sheets sticky with sweat. "Son of a bitch, damn it to goddamn shit - "

"Gabe?"

Gabriel yelped. He hadn't realized that Sam was still there in the corner, where he must have fallen asleep reading. Having somebody wait while Gabriel drifted into unconsciousness wasn't a system Gabriel particularly liked, but none of the others - not Dean, or Castiel, or Jack - had ever given any indication that it bothered them to stick around so that Gabriel might feel a little less vulnerable.

"Sam," Gabriel sputtered.

In the warm cast of the bedside lamp, Sam looked far more alert than he should have. "What's wrong?"

"Ah - " Gabriel shook his head, trying to clear it. "Sorry. Nightmare. That's all."

"You're shaking."

Nausea clawed at Gabriel's throat and he groaned, lowering his head to his knees and burying his fingers in his hair. He heard Sam get up, then felt his weight on the mattress. "Should we talk about it?"

_Don't give me back!_

"There's so much other stuff to talk about it," Gabriel muttered into his knees. "Like the fact that you should be in your room. Sorry, you know I just get … squirmy if you're - if someone's not here for a little while."

"Gabriel." Sam sounded worried now. "What happened?"

_Samuel, I can offer you anything you want in exchange for my boy._

Slowly, Gabriel raised his head. Sam's face was pale with sleeplessness, but his eyes were bright with concern.

Gabriel tried to speak, tried to tell Sam was he'd just seen - but found that he couldn't. Not without feeling like he was back there. Not without hearing their voices.

Not without hearing his own.

_Sam, please, no, no -_

Sam sighed. "Looks like it was pretty bad, huh?"

"Yeah, not my favorite room in the warehouse of fun that is my subconscious."

There was silence for a while. Then, resigned to the fact that silence often led to disaster, Gabriel went on, "Him. You. Me. Just … in your room."

"Hurting you?"

"Uh. Not in so many words. I mean ...

_Don't give me back; I'll stop crying, I'll stop throwing up -_

Sam's expression turned to one of alarm. "Okay, hold on - " He leaned over to grab the bucket Gabriel had kept beside the bed - just in case, just for moments like this - and shoved it into Gabriel's lap. "There you go, you're okay."

Gabriel stared down into it. "No, it's fine; I don't need to - "

"You look really sick."

Gabriel shook his head and placed the bucket back on the floor, but Sam's intuition was correct. Gabriel just didn't want to be holding something to vomit into because that made it all the more tempting. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"No you're not. You're freaked out. Look, I'm not gonna make you tell me, but … something's really wrong. Gabriel, you look like you did when you first came here. Not after Michael; I'm talking about, like, the first day you ever stepped foot in the bunker."

_What do you say we split him? Like a Monday-Wednesday, Tuesday-Thursday sort of thing?_

"Mm," was all Gabriel managed.

"So what can I do? What can I do to help?"

Gabriel didn't answer.

"Seriously," Sam pleaded. "You're scaring me a little."

"What?" Gabriel forced a smile, trying to reassure him. "Why?"

"Because …" Sam reached out to squeeze Gabriel's shoulder but changed his mind halfway through, anticipating an aversion to touch. "Because when you have that look, it's the farthest from _you_ I ever see you get." He paused, then continued, "When I see you like that, I … I think I need to pull you back before it's too late."

"Too late for what?"

"Too late for _you_. I don't want to lose you."

Gabriel tensed. "You're not losing anything that isn't already lost."

"Okay, well, focus on me, then. The real me. I don't know what you just saw, but it wasn't - "

"I know it wasn't real, Sam!" The words came out more harshly than Gabriel had intended. "But you know that it's real to me."

Sam's face fell. "I know. I'm sorry. I just wish it wasn't. Okay, what if I go find Cas for you? He'll be up. He wasn't part of the dream, was he?"

"No," Gabriel muttered, "But I don't need my brother. Especially not after the other day. Getting squeezed dry by that grace-thirsty tubercular brat."

"But if you're afraid of me - "

"I'm not!" Gabriel was irritated - not with Sam, or with himself, but with the gray areas of this aftermath. "If you hand me over to someone else for any reason, Sam, I … "

_Please don't; you can have me all the time; I can help you, I can give you grace, I can -_

"You what?" asked Sam.

_All those dead pals of yours?_

Gabriel's breathing grew shallow.

_What d'you wanna bet I can bring some of 'em back?_

"All right," Gabriel said at last. "All right, look: I'm not dumb, okay? And you know that. I'm just psychotic. I know you say I'm not, and that's fine; you're allowed to have stupid ideas, but - this imaginary shit feels as close to real as imaginary can get. So if I _ask_ you whether you'd be willing to give me up in exchange for some solid payment, you're gonna say, 'No Gabe, come on; that's absurd; that's Asmodeus talking; I'd never get rid of you' - you know, the classic Savior Sammy spiel. But one, I'm going to be terrified of that prospect no matter what; and two, if the price was right, I'd be a goner. I know you disagree, but - Sam, he said he could bring back your friends and family and everyone else you've lost. I tried to tell you he couldn't really, that he doesn't have that kind of power." Gabriel paused. "Hell if I know, though. He might."

"He might _have_," Sam corrected. "He's gone."

_Gabriel's mine if you aren't willing to either pay up or share._

"The point is," Gabriel said, "You would've been well within your rights to hand me over if he wanted me and was willing to shell out the goods. Come on, don't try and tell me you wouldn't agree to his terms if it meant you could have everybody back."

Sam hesitated.

"Exactly what I thought," said Gabriel, impressed by how calm he managed to sound.

Sam shook his head, eyes distant, brow furrowed. "No, no; I'm just trying to think about what that would look like. Having all of them, but not you. I just wanted to know if I could ever really be happy after letting you go. Just … trying to think about how everything would feel. I'm not trying to decide. No, I'd never do that; I'd never let someone take you away for all that torture, all that abuse. No. I'm sorry, I was just imagining; I wasn't debating, I promise."

_Now hang on there, Samuel. I didn't say I wasn't willing to negotiate._

"But is it a guilt thing?" Gabriel pleaded. "Is it because I'm your responsibility now?"

"It's because having them back wouldn't replace you. Hey, if someone could give you your family back, take away all that violence that made you leave Heaven and become Loki, would you hand me over to Asmodeus?"

"That's a dumb question. Of course I wouldn't. Gross."

"Right, so it's not an issue for either of us."

_Sam, please; please, Sam, please, don't let him hurt me -_

"Well," Gabriel added, "On the one hand, I wouldn't be cool with going back to him, but on the other … I want you to be happy." He swallowed. "If that means getting them back, then you should have them back. Or if it means holding me here, and taking advantage of the fact that my mojo is up to speed, then, you know, that'd be … uh …"

_Gabriel ain't only good for his grace._

He got the bucket back into his lap just in time, and felt Sam keeping him steady with both hands on either shoulder.

_I can understand why you'd wanna keep him so bad._

"I'm okay," Gabriel choked. "I'm fine. I'm good. Just - I feel a little - " He started vomiting again before he could say anything more.

"Oh Gabriel, man …" Sam tightened his grip. "Why get sick over something that's never gonna happen, huh? This isn't worth freaking out about."

_Sometimes he ain't exactly a … willing participant, let's say …_

"I don't think you understand," Gabriel whispered, closing his eyes in order to avoid looking at his stomach contents. "There was nothing imaginary about this, not really."

_… but he can be held down real easy._

This time the vomiting was violent - violent enough that it hurt, violent enough that he thought he might suffocate.

"Gabriel." There was a tremor in Sam's voice. "No need for this. Come on, it's okay. I promise it's okay. Take a deep breath."

_Sam, no, not you, don't do that to me, not you, please, please -_

But Gabriel continued heaving bile into the bucket, longing to be able to appease Sam's wishes, loathing himself for such a brutal attack of sickness when Sam wanted him to stay calm.

"Hey," Sam said softly when Gabriel began to retch fruitlessly, "Nothing left for you to throw up, Gabriel. Come on, give yourself a break."

"I - I'm - "

"You're not sorry. Don't be sorry. Just be gentle with yourself."

Trembling, Gabriel lowered the bucket back to the floor. He felt cold and feverish but grateful for the weight and warmth of Sam's hands on his shoulders.

"Look at that," Sam murmured. "It's all okay."

The least Gabriel could do was agree, just to this, so he nodded.

"You must be exhausted," said Sam.

Gabriel's voice was raw when he spoke. "Exhausted but not going back to sleep. I can't."

"No, that's fine; I didn't expect you to. So what can I do? What can I do to make things feel - uh, I guess - as close to normal as possible?"

_Sam, please stop him; don't let him take me, please -_

Gabriel gave another retch and covered his mouth. Sam squeezed his shoulders.

No. Gabriel wouldn't be sick again, not after he'd already dragged Sam through such a display.

Shivering, Gabriel lowered his hand and croaked, "I don't know. Just don't sell me to Asmodeus."

"I won't. I wouldn't. Please, Gabriel - don't be so afraid of that."

_Here's an idea: give me your best needle and thread._

Gabriel gritted his teeth.

He felt Sam pull him close, although Gabriel barely registered the action; his mind had begun to creep into numbness.

"You're not really all there, are you?" Sam remarked.

Gabriel didn't reply.

"Come back," Sam added in a soft voice.

Gabriel shivered harder. "Don't want to think about it is all. The dream. And the fit I threw after I woke up. And how my stomach hurts like a bitch because I couldn't keep it under control."

"All right, well, then don't focus on any of that. Let's … what do you think about some hot chocolate?"

"Shame you had to stick with hunting. The world lost a brilliant comedian. You honestly think I could hold anything down?"

"Right. Sorry. Water, at least. Let's go get some water."

"I'll - "

"You won't throw up again."

"Yes, Sam, I will."

Sam sighed. "We'll give it half an hour and then try some, okay? No excuses."

Gabriel stiffened. Sometimes Sam didn't realize how threatening even a gentle suggestion might sound.

There was silence for a while, and then, still pressed against Sam, Gabriel said, "You know, Asmodeus - he's gone and all, and no matter how much I feel like he isn't … he is. I'm never gonna actually see him again, or at least it seems unlikely. Stuff happens and whatnot. People … demons … angels … they come back. But the odds are hardly in his favor."

"Right," Sam agreed.

"So when I think about you and Lucifer, who was never really gone, and how you've had to see the guy over and over again … I don't know how you managed to stay functional."

"Oh. Well … I don't know. Just gotta do what has to be done."

"But being so close to him again? After all those years of him doing what he did to you? How did that not just destroy you?"

Sam didn't say anything.

"Sam?"

After another moment's hesitation, Sam replied, "I don't know if there was much left of me to destroy."

Gabriel frowned, then pulled away and looked up at him. "I told you, I knew you before my brother invited you to his tea party. I know you went _through_ hell before you went _to_ Hell, but you had enough pep to put me in my place more than once. I knew who you were. _You_ knew who you were. You definitely weren't destroyed, Sam."

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, I was. But … it's okay. Makes it easier to fight if you know you don't have much to lose."

Gabriel's blood ran cold. "Or you put in less effort."

Sam furrowed his brow. "I don't put in less effort."

"For _yourself_, Sam. I'm talking about fighting when _you're_ the one in danger."

Sam glanced away.

"Sam, come on," Gabriel pressed. "I know you're a warrior for the rest of the world, for everybody you wanna keep safe. And I'll give you that; it's a perfectly admirable characteristic. But how hard did you fight when that spirit attacked you? You put up your dukes for Castiel, but what about for you?"

Sam squirmed. "Don't try to change the subject."

"Well, the subject has been changed for about ten minutes now, so might as well make the most of it. Look, I understand: if you're nothing more than a pile of smoldering wreckage, there's no use in wasting energy on yourself. And I worry about that. You wanna know how I can tell the difference between the dream and real life? You'd sooner fight for me than for you. What you said about not sacrificing me even if you could have your friends and family back? That's what I mean. You deserve to be happy too. And you deserve to be alive."

Sam kept his eyes trained on the far wall. "Gabriel, stop it. I don't want to talk about this."

"I'm afraid you'll get yourself killed. Sam, what the hell would I do if you just … gave up? If you thought it wasn't worth it to put your all into defending yourself? What would Dean do? And the kid, huh? Cas too. You're not _destroyed_, Sam. There's a hell of a lot left to protect."

Sam jerked his head up, and now his eyes were hard with something like anger. "I don't know about that, all right?"

Gabriel edged away. "Well, I do. I don't suppose you've forgotten about getting chomped by that vamp? The one with real fangs and not just a fetish for choking the life out of unsuspecting New Englanders?"

Sam paled. "We're not discussing that."

"Yes we are!" Gabriel barked. "Do you have any idea the picture that made? I - do you know what it'd do to me if I had to watch you get murdered twice? After _this_? When I need you so _freakin_' bad? I can't even think about it! But I _have_ to think about it, because I don't trust you not to let go. Even _then_, right after I escaped, after _you_ were the one who helped me and - and we hadn't even gotten to this point, where you've seen me through so many nights just like this one - " Gabriel swiped at his face with the heels of his hands. "Why don't you care about yourself the way you care about me?"

"Maybe because Lucifer cared about me enough to bring me back!" Sam was close to shouting now; and although it perturbed Gabriel, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Sam failed to acknowledge how intensely this kind of behavior could scare Gabriel, he found that he wasn't frightened by Sam's outburst. Gabriel couldn't afford to back down in this debate, even if he broke apart afterward.

"I don't want to be at Lucifer's mercy like that," Sam continued, red with suppressed fury. "It can't be up to him whether I live or die. I understand that for us, for all of us, death isn't really permanent. It should be, but it isn't. I died and _he_ was the judge of whether I had the privilege to stay gone!"

"He's not my ideal puppeteer either, Sam, but he made the right call."

Sam stood up. "'Ideal.' You think it's a matter of electing someone who wants to play God? No one is allowed to make that choice, Gabriel. _No_ one."

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "Neither are you, amigo."

Sam towered over him, so much larger and stronger, and so much more powerful - even if Gabriel had once been the one to build, govern, and dismantle entire worlds.

Gabriel looked up and held his gaze.

In the hush that followed, Sam's features took on a new cast - one of horror and disbelief. He still didn't say anything, but Gabriel could see that Sam had realized what he'd done.

It seemed that he was waiting for Gabriel to speak, but Gabriel remained steadfastly silent.

Sam swallowed, and all he said was, "I'm not mad at you."

"I know," Gabriel told him. "You're mad at Lucifer for being a buttloaf and yourself for being who you are."

"I didn't mean to freak you out."

"Do I look like I'm freaking out? I just want you to _listen_ to me!"

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Okay. You and I are on the same page as far as pushing each other in the right direction. Don't die. I won't die. Or I'll - I'll at least do my best not to die. But you know there are no guarantees in my line of work."

"Well in my book, that has nothing to do with anything. You're just gonna have to try harder than if you were stationed at some desk with a fancy nameplate."

"I'm not _not_ trying, Gabriel. But … don't you know what it's like to watch people you love get hurt?"

"Well if you were listening to me - "

"It's not the same as putting yourself at risk. Sometimes there's just no question."

"And I feel you on that, I do; but don't be an idiot about it."

Sam glanced away. "All right. Okay. Listen - how're you feeling?"

"Uh, pissed?"

"The nightmare, dude. The nightmare."

Gabriel's shoulders slumped. Now that the battle with Sam's self-esteem was at an end, he felt worn out.

"Can you sit back down?" Gabriel asked, and Sam obliged, keeping a little distance - all too aware of the fear that might lie beneath the ferocity of Gabriel's conviction.

Gabriel clasped his hands and squeezed them together in his lap, staring down at the floor. "I'm all right. I, uh … I think. Well - not exactly, not after the dream, and not after remembering what you looked like when you were turned into a meal. But all right."

"Can I touch you?"

"You can always touch me."

Sam gave a tight smile. "Not after yelling at you."

"I'll forgive you if you follow through on your promise. To put yourself in the same place you'd put Dean, or Cas, or Jack, or even - for Dad knows what reasons - me."

_Give me your best needle and thread._

Sam opened his arms, and Gabriel leaned into him.

_He can be held down real easy._

"Asmodeus never did learn how to shut up," Gabriel muttered.

"Why do you say that?"

"He won't get out of my head. He's a real chatterbox, that one. And in the dream, speaking through your voice … I …"

"Yeah. I know."

What Gabriel wanted to tell Sam next hovered on the tip of his tongue as he debated whether it was safe to say, since the odds that he would nauseate himself again were high. Not to mention that if he broached the subject, Sam might grow frustrated at Gabriel's inability to process that Sam wouldn't hurt him.

"Sam," said Gabriel.

He must have sounded uneasy, because Sam withdrew from the embrace and frowned at him. "What?"

"So … you …" Without Sam to hold him, he hugged himself instead. "I know you would never take my grace. You've driven that home for me."

"Okay, good."

"It's just that … the nightmare … it, uh, it reminded me that there's something worse."

_Don't do that to me, not you, please, please -_

Sam didn't answer, perhaps trying to calculate Gabriel's meaning.

Gabriel kept his eyes on the floor.

He wasn't sure what alerted him to the fact that Sam had realized what Gabriel was trying to tell him, but something in the air between them shifted.

Gabriel lifted his head to read Sam's expression. Any trace of the angry flush had vanished, leaving the pallor of horrified incredulity.

"The dream," Gabriel reminded him. "It was the dream, not you. It's not your fault."

Sam simply stared at him, and this time Gabriel did feel a flicker of fear. If what he had said was too absurd, too offensive, a step too far -

Sam opened his mouth to say something, and Gabriel tensed. But then Sam changed his mind, or perhaps was unable to speak; and the hush was thick with Gabriel's terror and Sam's alarm.

So Gabriel waited.

"Gabriel."

He stiffened, prepared for some form of brutality.

"Gabriel," Sam said again. "Oh my god … "

_Just hurt me,_ Gabriel thought, _Please._

"Gabe, it's okay." Sam's voice shook a little, but there was enough gentleness that Gabriel raised his eyes. "It's okay. That wasn't me. That'll never be me." A pause. "I'm here now. The real me. You know that, right? You trust me to keep you safe?"

"I - I do, and I know it's BS, and I get that you're the last person who would - who would ever - I know. I do know. And I'm not asking whether you'd do it. I just needed to get the freakiest part of the nightmare out of my system."

"I'm glad you said something."

"Are you really? Because just now you looked like a layperson looks when they find a skinned corpse in the middle of the woods."

"I wouldn't want you keeping it to yourself. Holding it inside. You don't have to hide anything you're afraid of." Sam hesitated, then asked, "Are you afraid of it?"

"By default, I'm afraid of everything."

"No, Gabriel, I mean _really_ afraid."

Gabriel clenched his jaw. "I get that you wouldn't. That you won't. But knowing doesn't stop me considering how it would feel if you did do it."

"That's not an answer. Gabriel …" Sam took him by the shoulders so that they were facing each other. "Are you scared or not?"

_He can be held down real easy._

"Gabriel?"

_Not you!_

"Yes," Gabriel whispered.

Sam's expression remained still for a moment, and then he pulled away and scrubbed both hands over his face. He was exhausted, Gabriel could see, and overwhelmed.

"I know how stupid it is," Gabriel added, chest tightening with guilt for how badly he'd upset him. "I know there's no reason to be so on edge about something that'll never happen. And the truth is I haven't given it much thought before. I mean, now and again, sure, but I've considered every possible scenario. I've thought about you beating me or locking me up or screaming at me and so many other things, and an hour ago I watched you trying to strike a bargain for me and my grace. Now that it's coming back - you know, are you gonna toss me out because I'm better and don't need to be coddled, or keep me around because I'm useful, or sell me because someone in the pit can give you all the goodness you never got but always deserved?"

Sam's voice was gentle when he answered. "That's enough. That's enough, Gabriel. You've been through so much torture already. Don't keep it going over an ugly fantasy."

Gabriel examined him, assessing the threat he might pose, comparing the Sam of his nightmare to the Sam that had just held him steady as he retched endlessly into the bucket now sitting at his feet.

"Just know," Gabriel told him, "At the end of the day, I don't believe it for a second. I mean, someone sees a spider and panics over what _looks_ like a multi-legged beast of death and destruction, but they know otherwise. They know all they've got on their hands is a silk-happy little flycatcher with every good intention. But does that stop them from getting out the 1994 Webster's and plopping it on the spider and then standing on the dictionary to make sure the spider's really dead? No. No, Sam. The dictionary still comes off the shelf."

"I didn't realize you had such strong feelings about spiders."

"The point is that I'm afraid of what could happen when I know there's no actual threat. But I'm not afraid of you. And I hope you don't forget that."

Sam gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll try not to. But why didn't you tell me about this, Gabriel? Why haven't you mentioned it before?"

"Like I said, it's not something that comes into my head all that often. But everything does at some point, and my everything is a whole lot of everything, so there's no point trying to spill it all to you. At least not all at once."

"All right, well … you know I'm always around to listen to you."

"You are. There's no denying that. I've told you to back off, for your own sake, and maybe you only stuck around because of that insatiable appetite for kindness. But you _did_ stick around, and … here you are. Listening."

Sam smiled more genuinely this time. "I think you should try and drink a little water now, don't you? It's been a while."

Gabriel gave a noncommittal grunt.

"I'll be right back," said Sam, and Gabriel's breath caught. He was always disconcerted when he had to lose Sam even for less than a minute following events like those that had just taken place.

When Sam returned, he held out a glass of water. "Bottoms up."

Gabriel accepted the glass, took a careful sip, and glanced at the bedside clock. "Sam - "

"I don't care that it's late."

"Okay, yeah, but it's _really_ late."

"You needed help."

"I'm not complaining; I'm just saying I think you need to go to sleep."

Sam shook his head. "It's okay. I know you don't want to be by yourself. We can stay up as long as you need."

Gabriel hesitated. "Yeah. Okay. Fine. You know me. I'm in no condition to be alone."

"Then I'll stay," Sam assured him. "Here, I can lie down with you if you want."

"Ah, not on these sheets. I'm a sweaty mess."

"Then shower and I can change the sheets." Sam patted him on the back. "You'll feel better after you rinse off. Can you do that?"

Gabriel shrugged. He didn't want to leave, but he also didn't want Sam to think he couldn't bathe himself.

"Hey," said Sam. "Can you do that?"

Gabriel ran both hands over his knees and gripped them tightly. "Yeah, okay."

Although he was a little unsteady on his feet - he always was after getting so ill - Gabriel did feel slightly more relaxed after showering. And sure enough, as inevitably happened when Sam found him in such a state, the bedding was changed and the bucket full of vomit emptied and cleaned.

"Wow," said Gabriel, "A-plus on your ability to handle sweat, barf, and tears all at the same time. That's a special kind of juggling act."

"Come sleep," said Sam.

Gabriel didn't move.

"You'll be fine," Sam insisted. "I'm not going anywhere."

_Don't let him take me, please -_

Gabriel shuffled over to the bed and lay down under the blankets. Sam did the same and switched off the bedside lamp. "Wake me up if anything happens. Even if you just need a little reminder that nothing's really wrong. Okay?"

"I'll be fine."

"Just don't pretend to be."

"I'll be fine."

"Good. Wake me up if you're not."

How, Gabriel wondered, could Sam ever have believed he was so damaged that there was almost nothing left of him?

"Sure," Gabriel answered. "Cool. But I'll be fine."

"Mm. You already sound like you're lying."

The nausea had come back. "Can I have a little more water?"

Sam shifted so that he could retrieve it from the nightstand. "Here."

"Thanks." Gabriel took a careful swallow, more afraid of spilling it onto the bedding than of upsetting his stomach. "And … you mind handing across the bucket? Just so I have it on my side."

"Gabriel, are you working yourself up again?"

"Eh."

"Easy. Come here; I'm right here."

"I know you are."

"Gabriel, let me help."

Gabriel's throat tightened, and he found he couldn't reply.

"You need to be touched, don't you?" asked Sam.

That surprised Gabriel. "What?"

"Ever since you told me about how you used to beg Asmodeus to hold you - "

"Nope. Nope. Let's not."

" - I've been thinking about how much it probably sucks to want it and be scared of it at the same time."

"Yes, Sam, this whole saga of mine blows. That shouldn't be news to either of us."

"You still flinch away from me sometimes. Or you'll tell me to leave you alone. And I think in the first case, you're genuinely terrified. But then other times you just don't want to ask for it because you think I'm fed up with it, or you don't want to let yourself get used to it, Or you think it embarrasses me. Or maybe it embarrasses you."

"I - "

"I could be wrong. But until I see otherwise, I'm going to assume I'm onto something."

Somehow this made Gabriel feel angry. "You have X-ray vision or something, Sam? Are you taking notes?"

"No, Gabe, I - "

"You don't need to be watching me through a microscope."

"I'm not! It's just … it's hard to miss. By this point I know you, man. And I'm not judging you for it. Not for anything. I just want to be able to - "

"To help, I know." Gabriel sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just wish I wasn't so transparent. And that you were a little less astute." In the darkness, Gabriel took Sam's hand. "There. Now I'm fine."

But Sam let go and pulled him closer, easing him into the warmth that, for Gabriel, spelled a particular kind of security with which he now felt familiar, but to which he somehow remained unaccustomed. "Go to sleep, Gabriel."

At this point, objection would have been pointless. So Gabriel told himself that he might as well let Sam indulge in the altruism he so stubbornly refused to sacrifice.

Once Gabriel had made up his mind about that, falling asleep was easy.


End file.
